


Happy to Help

by DeepDisiresLonging



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fight-Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 13:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepDisiresLonging/pseuds/DeepDisiresLonging
Summary: Velveteen’s ability to see people’s possible weaknesses is unparalleled. It doesn’t work out for him this time, but it works out well for the Reader and Ricochet.





	Happy to Help

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, this turned out so fluffy! It twice as long to write the ending because of it. Super proud of this, so please kudo/comment the heck out of it.

Velveteen was back on his bullshit.

Come to think of it, you don’t think he was ever off it. Especially when you and he were both gunning for the North American championship.

“Are you looking at the championship or Ricochet?” Velveteen broke through your thoughts, startling you as he plopped down in the chair next to you. “You know, if you two wanted to have some fun time, I could babysit the title for a while-“

“No.”

He frowned. “Come on, don’t deny that you’ve got feel-“

“I’m not.” You plucked at your wristbands. “What I feel and what he feels… never mind. Doesn’t matter.” You turned in your seat to face him. “Besides, we both know you don’t really care if I’m getting any. You just want to be champion,” you chuckled.

Velveteen shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t try.” He left the way he came, keeping a wide birth around Lars brooding nearby.

While you had been in thought and not looking at anything in particular, you shifted your gaze to Ricochet himself, his championship laying on his gym bag near his feet. He was stretching, getting ready for the show that night. Your airways constricted as you swallowed dryly. Aim for the stars, land on the moon, right? It didn’t matter what you felt. He was out of your reach. And it was probably unlikely that you’d win the triple threat tonight. But hey, you were going to try your hardest. At least for that.

***

“You need to get laid.”

Ricochet let his eyes drift open from where he’d been relaxing and tugged out an earbud. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You’re too at ease. Complicit.” Velveteen crossed his arms and huffed. “You haven’t had a match in weeks.”

He nodded. “Well, I figured you’d be upset if I lost the belt in an open challenge to, let’s say, Lars Sullivan?”

Velveteen waved away the soft threat. “He’s busy with Aleister. No. You’ve lost your drive. Your buzz.”

“And just who would you suggest to give me back my buzz, Dream?”

“Y/N.”

Ricochet’s heart stuttered in his chest. He sighed to keep his cool. “And why would you say that? Because they’re in the match tonight?”

“No.” Lowering his voice, he added, “you know they were watching you earlier.” He leaned his back against the wall. “At first I thought they were eyeing the title, but upon further inspection-“

“You mean after you’d nosed around a bit more,” Ricochet teased.

“Semantics. Upon further inspection, they weren’t looking in the right place for that. Wrong angle. Nope.” Quickly, Velveteen tugged out Ricochet’s other earbud. “You had all their focus.” He waited for Ricochet to react. When nothing happened immediately, he groaned. “You’re as dull as Y/N. Serves me right for just trying to help.”

Grabbing the title, the champ stood. “Hey. Even if I had a snowball’s chance, it’d never… oh never mind. Get lost Dream. I’ll see you in the ring.” Then he left. While he kept his shoulders as still as possible, his mind flipped and tossed the idea back and forth that you had any feelings for him. To himself, he muttered, “I doubt it.”

***

You don’t know why you thought the match would be straightforward. At lease with Ricochet and Velveteen, you knew they were going to be there. But then Velveteen was dragged out of the ring by his ankles. A large forearm flipped him through the air. And a large boot landing on his stomach winded him, also grounding him.

Lars Sullivan apparently had decided that he was done with the never good, never evil Aleister. He climbed into the ring and set his sight on Ricochet. Being a triple threat match, there weren’t disqualifications. He stalked Ricochet around the ring. Going by the scowl on his face, you didn’t think he had plans to let your opponent out of the ring in one piece.

When his back was turned, you scaled the ring post. You leapt. Lars roared and twisted as your arms wrapped around his neck. You only let go at the last second as Ricochet jumped off a ring post too, colliding with Lar’s upper chest. The man fell to the canvas. He wobbled to his feet, his back mear inches from the ropes. As one, you reached for each other’s hands and ran towards him, tipping him back and onto the floor.

The crowd was cheering, but all you could hear was muffled silence. Looking at Ricochet’s face, he was hearing the same thing while looking at you.

Again as one, you ran back for the opposite ropes. You bounced and jumped first, catching Lars on his shoulder, spinning him. Ricochet sent him crashing. One more time, you joined hands and clotheslined him back into the steel stairs. He didn’t move.

This was your chance.

You spun Ricochet back in the ring and gave Lar’s one final kick before joining him. But by then, the champ was ready for you. He flipped you onto your back, pinning you down by your wrists. You muscled up a shoulder before the count of two. He tried again, bouncing so he could sit on your torso. You arched beneath him.

Ricochet’s shins rested on your hips, and his hands tightened against your wrists on the canvas. You shared a smile, both blushing at the position. His gaze faltered as he looked to one side. You were kicked out of the way by a sliding Velveteen. Your limbs got tangled in the ropes on your way to the floor. But Velveteen’s attack had an unfortunate side-effect. He slid into the bottom position where Ricochet could roll him up. By the time you got to your feet, the ref finished his three count.

Ricochet was still the North American champion.

Damn.

***

Backstage, he caught up with you once all the cameras were gone. “Hey, Y/N!”

You tightened your grip on your gym bag slung over your shoulder. “Hey,” you mumbled. Doing your best to avoid looking in his eyes, you looked past him down the hallway. “Good match.”

He nodded. “Yes. It was. Um,” he rubbed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “Thanks for the help with Sullivan.”

“No problem. Happy to do it.”

Silence.

Ricochet spoke up before you could say goodbye. “I wanted to offer, if I can clear it with Regal, a match next week. For the North American. For your help.” He chuckled. “Because… ‘cause you helped. If… if you’d like.” He opened his mouth to say more but bit it back.

Living in the business, you had learned what it took to get people to talk. You nodded your head. And kept quiet. The silence prolonged.

“There’s another option,” he whispered. “Would-“ he huffed and muttered quietly to pull himself together. You smirked. “Would you like a more personal thank you?” He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers at his elbows. “We seem to arrive at the center about the same time every morning. Would you like to grab coffee? Get there a little later but with caffeine?”

You bit your lip and inhaled deeply. He shut his eyes, ready for the rejection.

“I’m not usually a coffee person… but I could go for some hot chocolate right about… now. If that’s okay.”

Ow. Your chest hurt from waiting. Even your heart seemed to be paused so you could hear his reply.

“I’ve got hot chocolate stuff at my place.” He blushed. “I like to chop up those mini Hershey bars in mine.”

You smiled. “Same. But I do it with Andes mints.”

“Ayyy.”

“My place or yours?”

Ricochet flicked at his nose. “Your idea sounds better than mine.”

“Great,” you said brightly. “You know, chocolate’s an aphrodisiac. Depending on how much we drink, you might get something even sweeter.” Ricochet shivered. Your smile dropped into a worried frown. “I mean… that is…”

“Don’t know about you, but it won’t take me much. Let me grab the rest of my stuff.” He rushed off, leaving you breathless in the hallway. When you were sure he was far enough away, you gave a growl of success.


End file.
